


make the world a little colorful

by mightbemelissa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Major character death - Freeform, Mistaken Identity, No Canon Divergence, Soulmates, True Love, like seriously everything terrible that happens in star wars happens, there's just more fluff before hand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbemelissa/pseuds/mightbemelissa
Summary: The morning after meeting her soulmate, Padmé woke up and saw color for the first time. In the midst of a political crisis, Padmé had just met a gungan, two Jedi, and a slave boy and his mother. She, like any rational young woman, assumed the padawan learner was her soulmate. Ten years later, after having accepted that she would never be with her soulmate, Padmé, reunited with both her supposed soulmate and the slave boy, she realized how wrong her assumptions were. The slave boy, Anakin, who had looked at her with wide hopeful eyes and asked if she was an angel, was her soulmate.





	make the world a little colorful

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this fic came to me ages ago and I wrote a bullet point summary of it on [tumblr](http://estrangedlestrange.tumblr.com/post/169889694351/ok-so-an-idea-anidala-with-the-classic-soulmate). This will be two chapters, the first chapter is Anakin and Padmé finding each other as soulmates, the second will be the Clone Wars and Revenge of the Sith. So if you don't want angst, don't read chapter 2. Title of this fic and the chapter titles are from Colorful by Jukebox the Ghost, a song I **highly** recommend, it's from the newest album from my favorite band.

As a little girl Padmé Naberrie loved nothing more than her bedtime stories. This was because every night, without fail, her mother would sit on her bedside, and tell Padmé stories about soulmates. These stories her mother told weren’t just fairytales. They were stories of swirling color sweeping through a person’s life. Of one morning waking up and the monochromatic would once known is gone, replaced by deep hues of more colors than one could image. Everyone knew soulmates were real. It was just a fact. Like how the waters of Naboo are blue and that Coruscant’s lights are always on. One day, no matter what species or gender or planet you were from, you would wake up and see color. If you were one of the lucky ones. The galaxy was so vast, so massive, that many would spend their entire life never meeting their soulmate, never seeing color. It was just how the galaxy was. Those facts, of course, of soulmates who never meet, were never mentioned in the bedtime stories. Padmé always loved hearing her mother tell her about the morning she saw color. How she woke up early by chance and the once grey sky was painted hues of morning pink and blues. How she raced out of the house and to the one next door, where the short boy just a few months younger than her had moved in the day before, already knowing that when he woke up he’d be getting the same surprise as her.

Later, Padmé learned, that the stories of soulmates, while true, were, in so many cases, fairytales. Not all soulmates loved each other, not all soulmates lived long enough to meet, and not all soulmates stayed alive long enough to be together. The truth about soulmates was, while the galaxy might dictate that people belong together, people often times, most times, didn’t listen to the galaxy. Most people lived their lives with or without their soulmate, it didn’t make a difference. They’d still get married, whether pre-destined or not, they’d still grow old, they’d still die. Those were the facts of the galaxy.

Padmé got older, as all little girls do, and became Amidala rather than Naberrie. The true stories of color and fairytales were no longer the most beloved thing in Padmé’s life. Instead, there was nothing Padmé Amidala loved more than her planet and her people. She had things to do, a duty to Naboo and the greater galaxy, no soulmate, no colors, would change that.

* * *

 

A heartbeat had not passed between Padmé’s eyes fluttering open to the white early light of Tatooine’s first sun before she was slamming her eyes shut again. What she had seen was simply impossible. Keeping her eyes shut, Padmé told herself she was still asleep, it was all still a dream. But the soft humming of Shmi that drifted from the kitchen, the dry smell of sand after the storm, and the growing heat already drifting through the open window told Padmé that she was not asleep. That what she had seen was real. Cautiously, Padmé cracked one eye open. She saw the same thing that had made her try to will herself awake, despite already being conscious. She saw color.

Abruptly, Padmé sat up, nearly hitting her head on the low ceiling that hung over her makeshift bed. There was color everywhere. The soft sandy muted color of the Skywalker’s hut, the vivid blue of her tunic, the bright reds and oranges that decorated the fabric of the natives out the window, all bustling about on their way to work. Padmé saw it all. Which meant she had met her soulmate. Her mind was racing, with everything happening on Naboo she didn’t have time for girlhood crushes or soulmates, they were both the same in her mind, frivolous and a distraction from her duty. _But_ … a voice in the back of her head seemed to whisper. She had still met her soulmate. Who was it, she couldn’t help but wonder? It couldn’t possibly be Jar-Jar or Qui-gon. Anakin was too young, Shmi a woman and too deeply weather. But Obi-Wan, a Jedi and therefore forbidden, but beautiful and young, polite and with a charming smile. He _had_ to be her soulmate.

Despite herself, Padmé was sure she could have spent hours sitting in her temporary cot, thinking about her soulmate, if not for Qui-gon clearing his throat as he approached her. “Padmé,” He said, his voice that same deep and even tone that never seemed to change, “Come, we have much to be doing today. We must not overstay our generous welcome.”

“I think we already have,” Padmé responded, glancing over to the kitchen where Shmi was smiling down at Anakin, her hand cupping his cheek in such a naturally tender way that Padmé almost yearned for her own mother and childhood days, “Signing Anakin up for the podrace on our behalf. Risking his life. They offered us a place to stay not their futures.”

Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Qui-gon brushed passed her and towards the door, Jar-Jar stumbling behind. Grumbling to herself and Artoo, Padmé followed them, displeased by their treatment of the sweet boy who gave them shelter and trying to ignore the distracting vividness of the previously unseen colors.

* * *

“Wizard,” Anakin exclaimed when he woke up and his world was flooded with colors.

Hearing him from downstairs, Shmi called up, “Is everything okay, Ani?”

Grinning to himself, Anakin raced down stairs to tell his mom about his new world. Everything in his home he’d seen a thousand times, they never had anything new, but that morning it was as if he’d never laid eyes on it before. It all looked different, bright and inviting and shining with color. “Mom! Mom!” Anakin raced into the kitchen where his mother was putting together their breakfast, it had to be ready before the second sun was up and they both had to be at work. For a split second he wondered what color it would be, but he knew he wouldn’t have to wonder for long, “I can see color, Mom! I just woke up and there it was! Did you know you your shirt’s blue? And my eyes are blue, too! Isn’t that wizard?”

“Oh, Ani,” His mother replied, with that sad half-smile she often wore that Anakin never knew what it meant. She pressed a hand against his cheek and Anakin leaned into it for a second, taking the moment to study his mother’s warm brown eyes that still seemed a little dull, despite his new colored vision.

“I bet it’s because of Padmé,” Anakin said, pulling away from his mother and glancing to the door that she was leaving through. “She told me she wasn’t an angel but she _has_ to be. She showed up and so did the color. She’s amazing, isn’t she?”  
  
Kneeling down to be level with her son, Shmi took his shoulders in her hands and said, in her stern voice that Anakin knew that he had to follow her directions, no matter what, the same stern voice she used when she told him about the slave implants, “Ani, you must never tell anyone you see color, do you understand?”

“But why?”

There was that same sad smile as Shmi pressed a kiss to his forehead, “You’ll find out when you’re older.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and grabbed the halbah bread his mother made, “You’re always saying that,” He grumbled as he left for work. But despite his complaints, Anakin kept his promise.

* * *

After tucking the orange blanket, Padmé was still in awe of being able to see the color, around Anakin to keep him warm, she slipped the little snippet he carved for her into her pocket. He had told her it would give her good luck and Padmé thought cynically to herself that she needed all the luck she could get, as she was on her way to woo a Jedi. Anakin was a sweet boy, his bright blue eyes possibly the most beautiful color she had seen so far, although, knowing the descriptions of Nubian sunsets she had to predict she’d see more stunning color soon. She mused to herself on the kind boy, feeling bad for him for being separated from his mother, but her thoughts did not linger long on him as she was walking towards the cockpit where Obi-Wan, her soulmate her heart seemed to scream, was sitting.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Padmé asked as she entered the room. Qui-gon was off at some other part of the ship, meditating he had said when he parted ways, so the only people in the cockpit were the two pilots and Obi-Wan. Neither pilot responded, knowing who she really was they seemed to know who her question was meant for. Obi-Wan, however, did not seem to realize she was talking to him. Padmé tried again to get his attention, “Hyperspace, I mean. I’ve never really spent the time thinking about it, but Anakin was so awed by traveling at light speed I feel like I’m seeing it with _new_ _eyes_.” She emphasized the word, hoping Obi-Wan would pick up on the fact that her vision had also changed. That they both could see color because of each other.

“I suppose it is fascinating,” Obi-Wan replied, glancing out the viewport before closing his eyes in a half-meditation that he was in when she entered.

Padmé shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant, as if talking with her soulmate was a casual occurrence, “The twirling lights, the spiraling hues, it’s almost like traveling through color, wouldn’t you say, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan looked up at her, his blue eyes a more muted color than Anakin’s and narrowed in a way that made Padmé feel uncomfortable, as if he was analyzing her, “I wouldn’t say,” He said, “And, Padmé, I must ask that you call me Padawan Kenobi, that is procedure after all.” Again, he closed his eyes, but he also turned away from her, not directly dismissing her but making it clear that the conversation was over.

“Of course, Padawan Kenobi. I was only in here to check how long until we drop out of hyperspace for Coruscant, the Queen was wondering.” Brushing past Obi-Qan, Padmé approached the pilot and asked the same question. She nodded and left, barely sparing a glance towards Obi-Wan, he was a Jedi, after all. For a moment, it felt to Padmé as if her heart was breaking, but then, she steeled herself. It didn’t matter if she could never be with her soulmate, the morning before she hadn’t planned on ever having a soulmate. It was better this way. He could stay dedicated to the ways of the Jedi and Padmé dedicated to their dreams. It was good, that her soulmate was celibate, good for both of them, they had real issues ahead of them and this way nobody who would care about soulmates would be hurt in the process. She could focus on Naboo, on politics, on improving the galaxy, rather than on the foolish whims of the heart. They would be landing on Coruscant soon and Padmé had to be ready to do her duty for her planet.

* * *

It was silly and the most immature Padmé had felt since she first saw color, but, if she was being honest, she was more worried about seeing Obi-Wan again than she had been about the assassination attempts. Assassination attempts she could handle. She was trained in combat and diplomacy. It was in her job description. Soulmates on the other hand were something Padmé was not prepared to handle. She mentally chided herself at how foolish she was being, seeing Obi-Wan again didn’t change anything, he was still a Jedi and she still had more important things in her life. Then on top of that, over the course of the crisis all those years ago, Padmé had come to realize she didn’t really like Obi-Wan. He was rude and conceited, which she should have realized from his passing comment on pathetic life forms. The Jedi Order had made Obi-Wan too idealized, the man thought himself superior to all others which, for Padmé as a queen who wanted to be one with the people, was the worst character trait. But despite her past dislike of Obi-Wan, the universe had still put them together, evident from their shared bursts of color. So many conflicting thoughts were churning through Padmé’s mind and she didn’t even have the time to concentrate on them. Trying to ignore the flutter and worry in her heart about seeing her soulmate, who she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see, Padmé concentrated on listening to Typho’s protection plan.

“The Jedi aren’t necessary,” Padmé said with a roll of her eyes, convinced everyone was overreacting. As if summoned by her words, the doors to her apartment slid open and Jar Jar entered, followed by their two old friends. Rising, Padmé turned to greet them and her heart nearly stop. Her eyes barely brushed over Obi-Wan and instead were glued to Anakin. Up until that moment she had barely spared a thought towards seeing Anakin again. Her focus was entirely on the Senate bill and assassination attempt, and all of her few fleeting thoughts were about Obi-Wan, trying to process seeing him again. But Anakin, standing there in her apartments stopped all other trains of thought. He looked good, incredible even. Nothing like the little boy who gave her that sweet trinket she still had tucked away somewhere. He was tall, towering over her by at least a head, his hair darker and his skin tanner, he looked nervous, and it was so incredibly endearing on a nearly full-grown man that Padmé’s smile at seeing her old friends grew twice in size.

Even as Obi-Wan bowed to her and shook her hand, Padmé’s eyes kept flicking back towards him. There was so little of the nine-year-old boy left that, when it was socially proper for Padmé to greet the apprentice, she couldn’t help but ask, “Ani?” She flinched inwardly, able to maintain her decorum on her outside. Of course, it was Anakin, he was Obi-Wan’s only padawan and she had been told he was coming. It couldn’t have been anyone else. Barely thirty seconds in and she was already embarrassing herself. Although, she wasn’t sure why it mattered if she made a fool of herself in front of Anakin or not. “My goodness, you’ve grown.” She added, clearing her throat and hoping it wasn’t obvious how clearly, she eyes were roving his body. She pursed her lips, trying to hide her wide smile.

“So have you,” Anakin said, stepping forward. Their eyes met and Padmé’s heart seemed to leap into her throat. She had been wrong all those years ago, thinking that the Nubian sunset could possibly be more beautiful than Anakin’s eyes. The blue of them was clearer than any lake on her planet, purer than that of the sky. “Grown more beautiful, I mean,” Padmé started to blush at his words, which only deepened as he tried to take back his words in an embarrassing stutter, “Well… for a senator, I mean.”

Padmé’s smile returned, brighter than ever, and she shook her head a little, thinking about how adorable Anakin despite, or maybe because, being so handsome. She found herself tracing his form with her eyes again and a warmth spread through her. It took a moment for Padmé to realize that she was actually attracted to Anakin Skywalker. Not sure if she was trying to mask her attraction or convince herself it wasn’t real, Padmé said, “Oh Ani, you'll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine.”

Her smile faded naturally as she turned towards the seating area, her entourage and the Jedi following behind. Greetings and formalities were over, it was time to discuss what was of real importance, the bill and her protection.

* * *

“I do not like this idea of hiding,” Padmé reminded Anakin as she entered her bedroom.

“Don't worry,” Anakin assured, barely moving as she bustled past him to help her handmaid pack. While he remained rooted to the spot, his eyes followed Padmé, she could feel his gaze burning against her. “Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, it won't take Master Obi-Wan long to find that bounty hunter.”

Padmé huffed, “I haven't worked for a year to defeat the _Military Creation Act_ not to be here when its fate is decided.” It didn’t matter how long it took to find the bounty hunter, she was still abandoning her post, almost guaranteed to miss the vote, and running away like a scared child. Ever since the Naboo crisis, Padmé had made it her policy to always stand her ground and she was furious that the Jedi and Chancellor were making her abandon that vow.

“Sometimes we have to let go of our pride and do what is requested of us,” Anakin said, sounding more like a Jedi than Padmé had heard. For some reason, Padmé could not pinpoint why, the image of Anakin as a proper Jedi made Padmé uncomfortable, as if some part of him was missing.

Padmé glanced up at him, as she continued to back, “Anakin, you’ve grown up.”

His demeanor seemed to change at her words, his shoulders hunched over more, whether because of shame or disappointment, Padmé wasn’t sure. “Master Obi-wan manages not to see it,” Anakin replied, he walked towards the window, staring out at the millions of beings going about their day and scaring away the hovercams that were trying to record her for the press. “Don’t get me wrong,” He continued, “Obi-Wan is a great mentor. As wise as Master Yoda and as powerful as Master Windu. I am truly thankful to be his apprentice.” Padmé slowed her packing to watch Anakin, deep in his own thoughts as he spoke, he used the force to light a stress toy she had, it mesmerized her, watching him lift something so easily, without ever touching it. Their eyes met as he lowered the trinket into his hand and, once more, Padmé felt her body flush. She quickly turned back to her closet as Anakin continued talking. “In some ways, a lot of ways, I'm really ahead of him. I'm ready for the trials, but he feels that I'm too unpredictable.”

In that moment, Padmé could understand Obi-wan’s hesitation. The way Anakin kept looking at her, the jealousy he seemed to feel, she knew that wasn’t the way of the Jedi. As Anakin continued complaining about Obi-wan, Padmé found herself glad she could never be with her soulmate. She wouldn’t ever want to be with someone who made someone as sweet as Anakin once was feel so worthless. When he was young, Anakin was confident, he had self-worth despite being a slave, but now, as a Jedi, he seemed unsure, despite his words saying otherwise.

Anakin sat down on her bed, his shoulders still slightly hunched, as if he had been trained not to stand up to his full height, his full potential. Taken over by an urge, Padmé couldn’t help but reach out and brush his hair back from his face, even though it was so short there was nothing too push back. “Anakin,” She said as their eyes met, “Don’t try to grow up too fast.”

“But I am grown up,” He said, rising from the bed, for the first time since they reunited straightening his back, making him stand taller than before. With him standing at his full height, towering over her, it was impossible for Padmé to deny that she was attracted to him. “You said so yourself.”

His eyes were boring into hers, so intense and smoldering, they seemed to match the fire that was burning within her whenever he was near. For a split second, Padmé was reminded of the day she first saw color, because Anakin was looking at her the way she looked at the universe that day. It was as if Anakin was the only person to truly see Padmé for the way she was, for who she was. A shiver ran down her spine and her heart was pounding. She tilted her head towards him for a second, almost subconsciously daring him to kiss her, before turning away and saying, “Please don’t look at me that way.”

“Why not,” He asked, the fire still burning his eyes feeling like it was scalding her skin, or maybe that was the attraction she felt trying to reach out towards him. Ever since seeing him again, Padmé felt like she was never sure of her emotions.

“It makes me feel uncomfortable,” Padmé said abruptly, spinning around to return to the protection of his closet, away from his gaze. She wasn’t lying. His gaze did make her uncomfortable. Not because it was clear he was attracted to her, which should have been the reason. Anakin’s stare made Padmé uncomfortable because she never wanted him to stop looking, because she wanted to look right back, because it felt like he was the only one to see her the way she saw the universe, dynamic and full of color.

He apologized and the conversation ended, but, despite his words, he kept staring.

* * *

His eyes were on her again and this time it was her fault. She had purposely dressed to catch his attention, testing the waters to see how far she could go in this dangerous game of attraction they were falling into. Her back was exposed, her dress barely hanging on her slim frame, leaving her skin as wide, open, and endless as the lake before them. The dress Padmé wore was soft pastel colors as she tried to goad any reaction out of him. Surely, from the gazes she caught and his nervous ramblings, like the one he just finished on sand, he had to be feeling the same way as her. Drawn together.

Slowly, as Anakin spoke, he reached out to her, tracing his fingers gently up her arm. If Padmé concentrated, she could of sworn all of the colors of the lake country, the blues of the water, the greens of the trees, and the neutral tones of the sand, had become deeper, richer. She would have realized that everything was more vibrant, as if she was seeing colors for the first time all over again. But she wasn’t concentrating on the colors, too much of her mind was focused on the feeling of Anakin touching her. Taking more initiative, after Padmé allowed the initial contact, he moved his hand further up, tracing the soft curves of her exposed back. Everywhere he touched was alight, it was intoxicating. The warmth of the sun mixed with the fire he set with in her and, where their skin met, Padmé was almost sure she would burst into flames. She had no words to describe the sensation, no idea what to say, as she turned to look at him.

In Anakin’s eyes Padmé saw her passion reflected as clear as the lake waters before them. He smiled at her, kind and unsure, as if worried she would run. The dress she wore tempted him far more than she had suspected it would. He started leaning towards her, coming closer and closer yet still giving her space to back away. Padmé’s eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and back again. Was this really going to happen? But she too was going further than she had expected. Pulled to him, as if by some force stronger than that of the Jedi, she tilted her head up and, for the first time, their lips met.

Colors burst behind her closed eyes, more vivid than any light show she had seen, more entrancing than the love stories her mother told her all those years ago. The burning within her that had been there since they reunited reached its combustion point, it had spread to every inch of her body, surrounding her entire being by Anakin’s own. It was magical, the combination of his sweet lips pressing against hers, the colors twirling inside her mind, the heat burning within her heart and radiating from her skin. But then, one color came forward, more vivid than the rest, the blue of Anakin’s eyes. This was wrong, she realized.

Padmé turned away, breaking the contact. The second they stopped touching she felt immediate loss, the colors faded once more, the warmth fled her body leaving her cold and empty. “No,” Padmé gasped, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it, trying to clear Anakin from her system, “I shouldn’t have done that.” She didn’t dare look back to Anakin, knowing even just a glance would cause her to make the same mistake she just rectified. Kissing him felt like nothing she had ever felt before.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said. Both Anakin and Padmé knew that neither one of them were sorry. And, looking out over the lake, Padmé was almost positive she would end up kissing him again. One taste and she was already addicted.

* * *

“It’s beautiful here,” Anakin marveled. They were both laying on their backs and staring at the clouds, the endless blue sky, and the golden meadow surrounding them. Around them shaak grazed, hobbling around in their uneven walk but completely avoiding the two people. Anakin had terrified Padmé earlier, when he pulled that stunt. Her heart had leapt from her chest to her throat and everything seemed to stop for a moment. But then the panic faded to laughter and she couldn’t remain angry with him, not there, in such a perfect place in such a perfect moment. In that meadow, it was as if everything faded away. They weren’t a senator and a Jedi there, they were just Anakin and Padmé, young, carefree, part of the purple of the flowers and the golden grass. All their worries disappeared, hidden by the roar of the waterfalls and the music of their laughter.

Padmé looked over at him, smiling slightly. She couldn’t stop watching him, the way he lit up with pure joy when he spoke about what he was interested in. His laugh drew her in like flies to shurra honey. He was wonderful and being beside him made her feel wonderful, too. “I’ve always loved this meadow,” Padmé said, “Sola and I used to race through the grass and hide behind the waterfalls.”

Slowly, Anakin sat up. Shaking his head he explained, “I don’t just mean this meadow. I mean Naboo. It’s beautiful. I thought so when I was nine, you know, but it was one of the first places I had ever seen so of course I thought it was nice. But now? I’ve been so many places Padmé and nothing seems to compare to Naboo.” He said the name of the planet while staring directly into her eyes, as if he was talking about her and not her home. Despite the warm sun, Padmé shivered. “I wasn’t able to appreciate it enough before, I hadn’t seen enough to know how truly special your world is. I’ve never seen anything as rich and deep as the blue of Naboo’s skies and seas.”

Her first thought at his words was that his eyes were the same shade, but then she realized what he said. Padmé sat up abruptly, “You can see color?” She asked, not believing it. Once things settled after the crisis with the Trade Federation Padmé had researched Jedi and soulmates. Every source she read said Jedi never see color, or at least never admit to it. That the Force replaced all need of a soulmate. But sitting in that field, Anakin just proved all those databooks wrong.

Anakin nodded, a soft blush coming to his cheeks as he looked down, his hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck, an endearing habit Padmé had come to notice. “I’ve never told anyone before,” He said, “Except for my mom, that is. She told me not to tell, you know? So I listened to her.”

"How long of you been able to see color?” Padmé asked, leaning towards him. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was anxious with excitement and fear hear his answer. For the past ten years, Padmé had assumed her soulmate was Obi-wan. He was the obvious one at the time, close enough to her age, attractive enough, even the obstacle of being a Jedi still left him as the most suitable candidate. Yet there was Anakin, sitting before her, who she met at the same time as Obi-wan and who could see color, too.

“Honestly?” Anakin replied, his blush only growing deeper. Padmé nodded, imploring Anakin too continue. “Since the day we met.” Padmé’s breath hitched, but Anakin kept speaking, as if now that the words were finally being told they wouldn’t stop coming until they were all out, “When I woke up and saw all the colors around my room I was so sure it was because of you. That you had lied and you really were an angel. Silly, right? But when I told mom she told me that I could never tell anyone and, she had this look in her eyes, the one she had when she told me not to anger Watto and about the implant, I knew, for whatever reason, I needed to keep it a secret to stay safe. She wouldn’t tell me that otherwise.”

Padmé had barely processed what Anakin was saying. Her heart was pounding against her chest so fiercely it felt like it was going to break out and fling itself upon Anakin, wrapping him up and never letting go. They were soulmates. For the past ten years she had been terribly terribly mistaken. Anakin Skywalker was her soulmate. The galaxy, no, the universe, had destined the two of them, out of every being on every planet, to be together. No wonder everything was more saturated when they touched, he was her saturation, he was the reason she saw color at all. The Force had pulled them together. “Ani,” Padmé said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as horse as she thought it did, her mind still reeling, “Do you know what seeing color means?”

“No,” He admitted, sheepish once more, “My mom probably would have explained, if we had more time…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he shook his head, clearing his thought, “The Jedi never explained it. Apparently it has something to do with attachments, I’m not entirely sure what, which means nobody else in the Temple sees color. I always assumed that’s why they took younglings from their parents so early, so they don’t see color like I do.”

Padmé reached out to him, gently taking his arm. The way the colors deepened when they touched was undeniable now that she knew, “That must have been so lonely.”

“I’m part of the order. I shouldn’t feel lonely.”

The peace of the meadow seemed to fall apart then. The real world raced back into Padmé’s consciousness. He was in the order. It didn’t matter that they were soulmates, that he was her color and she was his. It didn’t matter that the universe put them together not once but twice. The problem Padmé had when she thought Obi-wan was her soulmate remained, he was Jedi. They could never be together. Padmé pulled her hand away from him quickly, as if scalded by the warmth she felt whenever they touched.

Standing, hoping to hide her spinning thoughts, Padmé suggested, “It’s getting late, we should head back to the house and prepare for dinner.” Anakin rose to join her. He hurried back to where they picnicked to grab the basket before they began walking side by side back to the house. Not realizing how profound the moment was, he began to tell Padmé about joke’s he had played in the Temple, one’s only he could see. Such as the time he dyed Obi-wan’s sheets pink and nobody realized until the laundry bot mentioned it four months later. She laughed at all the right points in his story, but her thoughts were elsewhere, focused on the fact that she was falling in love with her soulmate who she could never have.

* * *

She knew the instant the conversation took its turn towards romance that she had made a mistake. Dinner had been nice, the food Nubian delicacies that made Anakin smile with each bite and Padmé feel at home. All evening she had been dazed, thinking about the fact that Anakin was her soulmate. Yet she still had a lovely time. He was charming and kind, so much like the little boy she had met so long ago and so much different, the grown man he had become. Her brain kept screaming at her to stop her flirtations, that she was playing a dangerous game, but Padmé’s heart pushed her onward. It was like playing with fire, and when they entered the sitting room bathed in only that light and she slipped off her jacket, revealing the leather corset of her dress, Padmé was sure one of them was going to get burnt.

Anakin didn’t even know that they were soulmates, that the universe had destined them to be together, and yet there he was, sitting beside her, all but confessing his love. She was uncomfortable with the way he was staring at her, the way he always stared, uncomfortable with the fact that she never wanted him to stop. Nervously, Padmé adjusted as Anakin spoke, alarms blaring within her head telling her to stop the conversation before they fell in too deep. As Anakin told her about his gut wrenching agony about being near her but not being able to be together Padmé knew, without a doubt in her mind, that he could never find out that they were soulmates. It would break him, break them both.

He moved closer to her, close enough to kiss, and Padmé tilted her head away. How she yearned to lean forward and kiss him, there was a pounding in her chest akin to a war drum demanding for her to move forward, to capture his lips in a victory for romance. She told herself she was stronger than her urges. She could not ruin their futures simply because they were soulmates. It was too late for them; their paths were already decided.

“You are in my very soul, tormenting me,” Anakin said. Her eyes shot up to his, locking together. For a moment she thought he knew the truth, that she truly was in his soul, and he in hers. “If you are suffering as much as I am, please, tell me.”

Realizing he didn’t know the truth, that she felt the same way about him, Padmé almost wanted to cry. She wanted him to know how desperately she wanted to be with him, but instead she said, “I can’t. We can’t.” Looking down, Padmé continued speaking, for she was sure that if their eyes met she would burst into tears. Her chest was heavy with emotion, with how much she loved Anakin and how it pained her to reject his romantic intentions. “It’s not possible.”

“Anything is possible, Padmé. Listen to me,” Anakin moved closer on the couch and Padmé felt like she was about to combust. She wonders if he felt the same heat running through his veins the closer they came together. Was everything he was feeling because they were soulmates? Could one be in love with their soulmate without knowing that they were predestined? Padmé did not know.

Padmé rose abruptly, needing space from him, needing to be able to breathe again, to think logically and not fall victim to her passion for him. “No, you listen to me,” She snapped, “We live in a real world, come back to it. You’re studying to become a Jedi, I’m a senator.” Facing Anakin, with more distance between them, Padmé felt more in control. While she couldn’t tell him how much she had thought of this, she could tell him the conclusions she had drawn. That they could never be together. “If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion, it'll take us to a place we cannot go, regardless of the way we feel about each other.”

He had always been so full of hope, that was one of the things Padmé loved about him, which was why, when he clung to the one part of her exclamation she misspoke on, she found it both endearing and devastating. “Then you do feel something,” He said, sounding as desperate as she felt.

“I will not let you give up your future for me.”

Once more, Padmé was bathed in the heady feeling of being close to her soulmate when Anakin rose and came towards her, “You are asking me to be rational, that is something I know I cannot do. Believe me, I wish that I could just wish away my feelings, but I can't.” Despite what he may have thought, she knew all too well the desire to wish away feelings. That was what she wanted when she thought Obi-wan was her soulmate and she felt nothing but distaste for him and it was what she felt every second she was near Anakin and falling deeper in love.

“I will not give into this,” Padmé replied. She had spent the past ten years convincing herself she could live without her soulmate. It was easier then, when she wasn’t near him, when she didn’t even like who she thought her soulmate was, but the premise was the same. Padmé, no matter how much her heart screamed for her to abandon her duties and love Anakin, would remain firm. Her will was stronger than destiny, Padmé knew, billions of beings lived their entire lives without their soulmates and she would do the same.

Anakin started to walk away and for a moment Padmé thought the conversation was done, that she had gotten through to him. But then he paused, and slowly turned to her, saying “Well, you know, it wouldn't have to be that way. We could keep it a secret.” He looked like a loth-kitten, his eyes wide and pleading, wanting any way to be together.

It was breaking Padmé’s heart, how much she wanted to succumb to her emotions and agree with him. Instead, she said, “We'd be living a lie, one we couldn't keep even if we wanted to. I couldn't do that. Could you, Anakin? Could you live like that?” She already carried the secret that they were soulmates in her heart, she couldn’t let a secret relationship weigh down her conscious as well.

“No, you’re right,” He said, looking down, trying to hide tears in his eyes, “It would destroy us.”

Padmé looked away as well, thinking that it already was destroying them. A moment of silence passed, both of them lost in their own thoughts and broken hearts. Steadying her breathing, Padmé knew she had to end the night. Slowly she moved toward the door, coming to a stop beside Anakin. He looked up at her, hope once more in his eyes that would only be met with sorrow in hers, “I am sorry, Ani, I’m so sorry.” Before he could say anything in response, Padmé had fled the room, tears already rolling down her flushed cheeks.

* * *

Tatooine was as brutal and endless as she remembered the desolate planet to be. When she and Anakin had first departed their ship in Mos Espa, Padmé understood Anakin’s odd outburst about sand the other day. Of course, he hated sand, when he spent his childhood hopeless and surrounded by it, grating against his skin and wearing down his soul. Tatooine was as harsh as Padmé remembered, and harsher still, as the depths of the desert had just claimed Shmi Skywalker’s life.

Her heart yearned to ease Anakin’s pain, to do anything to soothe his aching soul, as hers hurt for him. But there was nothing she could do, no experience to draw on, no advice to give. Any words she had to say would be shallow, almost meaningless, because nothing she could say would bring his mother back. Both Lars men and Beru were preparing Beru’s body for burial, Padmé was tasked with the only thing she could do, be by Anakin’s side. Beru had told Padmé, in that soft gentle way the girl spoke, that it was Tatooinian custom that one should never be alone after the death of a loved one, it would only invite the wilderness to consume them next. Padmé didn’t understand the mythology behind what Beru said, but she did know that after a loss people should never be left alone. They need someone there. Nubian tradition was always to feed the grieving, it was said to nourish the soul and begin the healing of the wounds left by death, which was why Padmé came to Anakin, bearing a tray of halbah, the sweet bread Anakin ate as a child, a small cut of bantha steak, and blue milk. It wasn’t much of an offering, but it was the least she could do. It gave her an excuse to be with him, one that Padmé took advantage of. “I brought you something,” She said as she entered the room, letting Anakin know she was there.

Anakin was tinkering with something, an engine by the looks of it. He was hunched over slightly, his head turned down to his project, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes showing that despite what his hands were doing, his mind was far away. The coloring of the garage at the homestead, the way Anakin was drawn into himself, it brought Padmé’s mind tumbling back to their first meeting, when he was just a young boy working on mechanics in a shop. Maybe his life would have been easier if they never met, he would still have his mother and wouldn’t feel the conflict they both felt over their emotions. But he also wouldn’t see color, or the stars, and he’d still be the slave. She should have come for Shmi after the crisis, Padmé thought. There was so much she should have done and didn’t. There was no point dwelling in the past, Padmé had to tell herself. Their actions could not be undone. They had met, he had left, and neither of them returned soon enough to save Shmi.

“The shifter broke,” He said, sounding lost and distant despite being in front of her, “Life seems so much simpler when you’re fixing things. Always was.” Padmé wanted to tell him that it’s impossible to fix everything, that his mother’s death wasn’t his fault, that sometimes things just happen for no good reason and there’s no way to stop them. But Anakin seemed as broken as the shifter he was tinkering with and Padmé’s words couldn’t leave the tip of her tongue, not when he was hurting so much and they would not ease his pain. “But I couldn’t,” He paused, turning to Padmé, grief as clear as the never cloudy Tatooine sky, “Why’d she have to die? Why couldn’t I save her? I _know_ I could have.”

Her turned away from her and Padmé finally found the words she needs, “Sometimes there are things no one can fix,” She said, “This isn’t your fault, Anakin. You’re not all powerful.”

“Well I should be,” Anakin replied, his back was still turned to her but his voice quivered from withheld emotions and unshed tears, “Someday I will be,” He continued, his voice becoming stronger, more sure, “I will be the most powerful Jedi ever,” When he turned back to Padmé she saw that his eyes were burning, no longer with sadness but with rage. It was the same passion Padmé saw when he looked at her, but dark and ominous instead of the comforting warmth usually there, “I promise you, I will even learn to stop people from dying.” For the barest fraction of a tic, Padmé could have sworn his eyes flashed golden, but it was gone before she processed it, his eyes their normal vibrant blue. It was just a combination of his tears and the yellow light of the Tatooine suns, an illusion that she would never have even seen had they not met. She shivered from his intensity but still took a tentative step forward.

“Anakin,” Padmé started, not entirely sure what she had to say, just wanting to calm him down, to ease his pain and to comfort him.

“It’s all Obi-Wan’s fault!” It seemed impossible but Anakin was becoming more passionate, more enraged, his voice grew louder and he was almost shaking. “He’s jealous! He’s holding me back!” Reacting to his own rage, Anakin chucked the wrench he was still holding from the shifter and chucked it across the garage.

They hadn’t been reunited for long, but Padmé knew him. They were soulmates and she knew that something more than his mother’s death was causing him to act as he was. “What’s wrong, Ani,” She asked, taking another step forward.

“I killed them,” He replied slowly, looking down at his hands as if they were bombs tics away from exploding, “I killed them all. They’re dead. Every single one of them. And not just the men, but the women and the children too. They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!” Finally, for the first time since Anakin returned to the homestead with Shmi’s body, a tear fell. It was as if a dam broke as more tears came pouring down Anakin’s cheeks and he half crumbled to the ground, curling in on himself.

It was all wrong, all terribly wrong. Anakin had murdered an entire village. Already strong enough to do that and thinking that he wasn’t powerful enough. But he was in pain. His mother had died in his arms after being tortured for weeks, after they hadn’t seen each other for a decade. Of course he hurt, of course he reacted. And with all her training with a blaster, Padmé couldn’t say she wouldn’t do the same if that happened to her family. Taking a deep breath, Padmé lowered herself to the floor beside him, “To be angry is to be human. It’s alright to hurt. It’s alright to be angry.”

Anakin shook his head, “I’m a Jedi,” He replied, “I know I’m better than this.”

In response Padmé reached towards Anakin, she wiped away a tear despite more falling, before wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close. Anakin pillowed his head against her shoulder, his body shaking as he began to sob. “Nobody is above feelings, Anakin. No matter what the Jedi say. You need to let yourself feel.” She lovingly carded her hand through his short hair, doing everything she could do to comfort him, whispering sweet words of solace in his ears.

She didn’t know how long they were like that, her holding him as he cried, before he spoke once more. “I saw red, Padmé,” He said so softly that she barely heard him, “Everything was red. Red like I’ve never seen it before. Red from my anger and from Tusken blood. Their wounds don’t cauterize. There was blood everywhere. The entire village was drenched in it. I didn’t know color could be bad. I never thought I’d wish it would go away. I’ll never be able to unsee it.”

Pressing a soft kiss to Anakin’s hairline, just light enough that they could both pretend it didn’t mean what it did, Padmé comforted, “Often times, the best parts of our lives are also the worst.” She desperately hoped he didn’t realize she was talking about their relationship. His heavy sigh and how he burrowed deeper into the crook of her neck suggested all he heard was the comfort and not the fact that him being her soulmate was the most wonderful and terrible thing to ever happen to her.

* * *

Never in her life had Padmé been so fearful. It was far from her first time facing death, not after the dispute with the Trade Federation and the recent assassination attempts. But never had death felt as close as it did as the Geonosians prepared the cart to bring them into the arena. Not only were they going to die, they were going to die in a public execution, a spectacle to entertain the masses, in a painful and gruesome manner. As if he could sense her fear, which, given the combination of their soulmate connection and the Force, he probably _could_ , Anakin turned to her and said, “Don’t be afraid.”

“I haven’t been afraid for a long time,” Padmé responded, softly, as she met Anakin’s gaze, “Not since I first saw color. I knew then that everything would be alright because the universe had a plan for me.”

Breathing deeply, Padmé blocked out the sounds of the excited cheers in the arena and the buzz of the Geonosians flying close to them. There was nothing stopping her from telling him, it didn’t matter that he was a Jedi and she was a senator, not when they were going to die. She steeled herself, she couldn’t die beside her soulmate and have him ignorant, she needed to let him know. “Because seeing color is the way you know you’ve met your soulmate.”

“Soulmates? What are you talking about?” He asked, his brow furrowed.

“I love you,” She said. Regretting that she hadn’t said those three simple words sooner. Wishing that he understood how profound it was that they found each other. Wanting nothing more than to be somewhere else, with him, forever.

The blue of his eyes was radiant, swirling with his emotions, love, wonder, and confusion. She was glad, in that moment, that she would be dying by his side, with his clear blue eyes, still the most beautiful thing Padmé had ever seen. “You love me?” Anakin blinked as if he didn’t understand what she was saying, before looking away, as if he’d see in her eyes that what she was saying wasn’t true, as if looking at her would break him more than their impending death was, “I thought that we had decided not to fall in love,” He glanced back at her, his jaw set, “That we would be forced to live a lie, and that it would destroy our lives.”

"I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyways,” She started softly, half gasping as she tried to get her words out and keep her tears in, “I lied. I was already in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you. Even if we weren’t soulmates,” Padmé spoke slowly then, to emphasize her words, begging for Anakin to understand, “I truly deeply love you. I needed you to know before we die.”

As Padmé spoke both of them leaned towards each other. Each word brought them closer together, as if drawn by a magnet, or if finally saying the words aloud, that they were soulmates, pulled them towards one another. His nose brushed against hers was the only warning Padmé had before their lips met. It was a searing kiss, the familiar fire that warmed her whenever Anakin was near erupted into scalding flames. Their loved burned through her brighter than a thousand stars. Like before, colors flashed behind her closed eyes, swirling in a hypnotizing rainbow of vivid, enchanting possibilities. All their emotions, their love, their sorrow, their pulsing passion, was shared in that kiss. Only their second and certainly their last.

All too soon, the cart they were chained to began rolling forward. They broke their kiss, already aching at their separation. As they were pulled under the arch and brought into the arena they pressed their foreheads together, savoring the last few moments they had to breathe, to be together. “I love you,” Anakin whispered, before straightening up and turning forward, Padmé doing the same. Neither wanted to give the Geonosians savoring their execution the satisfaction of seeing their emotions. They were both prepared to die with dignity. When they turned away from each other the colors faded, less saturated than when they touched, and both resigned themselves to the fact that their last minutes alive would be spent in a less than vivid world. But at least they would be together.

The sunlit arena was nearly blinding after the dark antechamber they had been waiting in. The clicking roar of the crowd was deafening, the only thing louder, Padmé thought, was her own heartbeat. Before them were four columns that always stood in the arena, prepared for the dramatic public executions that Geonosians regularly enjoyed. Obi-wan was already chained to the first column, his arms locked above his head. His widened eyes and quirk of his mouth made it clear that he was displeased that both his padawan and the senator he was tasked to protect were joining him to be killed.

Led out of the cart first, Padmé quickly pulled a lock picking pin off her utility belt and hid it in her mouth. Anakin finally knew that they were soulmates, he knew that she loved him and she knew that she loved him back, and Padmé decided in that instant, as they were led out to the thousands of aliens cheering for their death, that she was not going to perish without a fight. The Geonosian guards chained her hands above her, exactly like Obi-wan, as Anakin was led out to the middle column. The two Jedi bantered but Padmé didn’t listen, she was focusing on the situation, on the best plan of escape. All three of them had to free themselves from their chains, which Padmé assumed would be easy business for the Jedi, and defeat whatever was going to join them in the arena.

With a wary eye she watched the beast enter, a reek, a nexu, and an acklay, it was going to be a difficult fight since none of them had weapons. Padmé glanced over towards Anakin, their eyes met. “I’ve made the executive decision that we’re not going to die,” She said, beginning to unlock her cuffs.

He looked back towards the beasts that were angry, hungry, and being corralled towards them, “I have a bad feeling about this,” Anakin replied. Padmé quirked her lips at him, before slipping her hand out of a cuff and beginning to climb her column, before the beasts were even near them. As Anakin and Obi-wan dealt with the reek and the acklay respectively, Padmé was faced with the nexu. All fur, teeth, and claws, the nexu tried to scale the column to reach Padmé. She ferociously tried to beat it back, using the chains that had bound her, but when they beast reached the top of the column, one solid swipe of its claws left the large cuts across Padmé’s back. She couldn’t help but cry out in pain, which led to louder clicks from the cheering crowd. The nexu, while it had reached the top, had no way to stay up, and when it returned to the ground to prowl, Padmé pressed a hand to her back. When she brought her hand back to look at it was coated red with her blood. Narrowing her eyes, Padmé glared down at the nexu. A lot could be said about Padmé, she was a diplomat almost always and relied on logic to make decisions, but when she let her emotions take over, she was an uncontrollable force. The nexu was about to meet that force.

As the nexu prepared to make another leap towards her, Padmé took the chain, which was still attached to the top of the poll, and leapt down. She swung out and around the column, hitting the nexu midair and striking it to the ground. Her attack only stunned the beast, which gave her a chance to return to her perch on the top of her column, but it also deterred the nexu. Creatures like the nexu were always warier when their prey fought back. She took her moment of respite to get the other cuff off her wrist. After, when she looked down, she was shocked to see that Anakin had tamed the reek. Atop of the beast that was supposed to kill him, Anakin charged forward and plowed down the nexu. He glanced up at her, despite the dangers of the situation, he was smiling. “Jump,” He ordered. He was enjoying this, she realized.

She didn’t hesitate and leapt down, landing on the back of the reek directly behind Anakin. Instinctively, Padmé wrapped her arms around Anakin, pulling herself flush to his back. Dangers surrounded them but there was a comfort, even just from that simple bit of contact with her soulmate. Whether it was because Anakin was her soulmate or because, even if he wasn’t she knew he would protect her, Padmé didn’t know. But she was relieved, at least to be close to him again, Padmé pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He took a pause, only a tic, to lean into it, his eyes fluttering shut, before directing the reek towards Obi-wan, who was still fighting the acklay. Obi-wan, with a spear he had taken from one of the Geonosians, fought of the acklay long enough to join Anakin and Padmé on the back of the reek. Sandwiched between the two Jedi and with the beasts disabled, Padmé almost let herself believe the worst of the situation was over. It was then that the droidekas rolled out. Anakin tensed and the destroyers surrounded them. It seemed, Padmé realized, that the fight was only beginning. Again, Padmé felt like her thoughts predicted what would happen next. The battle really was only beginning, as dozens of Jedi ignited their lightsabers and leapt to action.

* * *

It took manipulation, playing into the Jedi belief that non-force users were inherently weak and pretending to be more fragile than she was, but Padmé had managed to convince Yoda to let her sit by Anakin’s side in the medbay. She had claimed, that after such harrowing experiences that no senator should experience, the only way she would feel safe would be with the young padawan who had been protecting her, even if he was injured. Begrudgingly the Jedi had approved, after much arguing on Padmé’s end. She was the only one sitting with Anakin. Apparently, the Jedi rule against attachment limited medbay visits, as well. He was still unconscious but should be waking soon, according to the med-droid. As she waited she held his left hand, his only hand, tightly. She clutched it with both hands, tracing his knuckles and a scar he had on his thumb from when he first turned on a lightsaber and burnt himself. Every few minutes she would press a kiss to his hand, in his palm, across a knuckle, on the center of his wrist.

Padmé was exhausted. So much had happened in such little time. Within the span of a week she had a new soulmate, fell in love, he lost his mother, they were sentenced to execution, they fought in a ferocious battle, a galactic war had started, and Anakin had been maimed. He lost his arm, cut away as if it was nothing. She should have been there, Padmé thought, even though she knew there wasn’t much she could do against a lightsaber or a Sith Lord. Though, with the vague explanation of the Jedi back when that monster killed Qui-gon, Padmé wasn’t entirely sure what a Sith was. All she knew was that Count Dooku was one and he was on the other side of the brand-new war. Looking down at Anakin, his eyelids fluttering in his drugged sleep, Padmé held in a sob. She had wanted to stop an assassin not start a war. Galactic turmoil was the last thing she wanted. The first thing she wanted was in her hands. Anakin.

War, battles, conflict, they all had a funny way of putting things into perspective. Like her confession before entering the arena. Padmé knew that they were going to fight back, part of her probably even knew that with two Jedi there was a chance that they were going to survive. Yet she had still told Anakin that they were soulmates, that she loved him. She didn’t even have to wonder why she told him everything. She knew. Logic, Padmé’s most reliable tool, had no place in matters of the heart, and her heart screamed that all it wanted was to be with Anakin, in any way possible, in any capacity. If it meant lying, so be it. They had duties to the Republic, sure, especially with the declaration of war, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Not when she almost lost him.

His hand tightening around hers was the first sign Anakin was waking up. As he came to, he lifted what was left of his right arm as he groaned to himself. Padmé’s eyes widened when she realized he was trying to run his hand through his hair, like he did so often. He realized too, when his eyes snapped open to see no hand. His breath hitched and he tightened his hold on her hands even harder. “I had hoped it hadn’t happened,” Anakin said softly, looking at the bacta wrapped stump that was his arm.

“I’m so sorry, Ani,” Padmé half whispered, not sure what else to say.

Anakin jolted at her words and turned to look at her. He spluttered for a moment, as if he was surprised to see her by his side. “Padmé? What are you,” He paused for a second and looked around the medbay, taking in the fact that they were on a starship, “What are you doing here?”

Smiling gently down at Anakin, Padmé took her left hand and carded it through his hair, still holding his hand in her right. “I couldn’t let you be alone. I needed to be with you.” Anakin looked confused but didn’t say anything. Instead he released her hand so he could adjust himself to sit up. He struggled for a minute before sighing angrily at his inability to do the simple task. Leaning forward, Padmé helped him sit up, even though she knew he would rather had done it alone. Once he was settled, his back pressed against a pillow, Padmé took his hand once more. She looked down at it as she swept her thumb across his knuckles, “We should talk,” She said.

Anakin nodded and looked down as well, tilting his head away from Padmé as he pressed his cheek into his right shoulder. “I understand.” Anakin said, resignation heavy in his voice, “It was only because you thought we were going to die.” He blinked for a second, as if he was holding back tears, “What you said at the lake house is still true. It would be a lie. I won’t hold it against you.”

“What?” Padmé asked, understanding what Anakin was saying but confused by it nonetheless.

He shrugged and then winced as his wound pressed against his side, “We can’t be together. Nothing’s changed. In fact, it’s even harder to be together. I understand.”

Letting go of his hand, Padmé pressed her palm to his cheek instead and turned it so he would look at her. His blue eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Ani, no,” Padmé said, lowering her hand back to his, “That’s not what I want at all. I love you, Anakin. I want to be with you.”

“I love you, too,” Anakin replied, softly, “But we-”

“Marry me,” Padmé said, interrupting him.

“What?” Anakin asked. The situation was almost an exact repeat of their conversation in the car when she first confessed her love. It was unexpected and seemingly out of character for someone so calculating. But Padmé didn’t care about logic, not when it came to Anakin. She loved him and that was all that mattered.

“Marry me,” She repeated.

“What about your career? The Jedi? That kriffing war that just started? Are we just going to ignore it all? Abandon it? That doesn’t sound like you, Padmé. That’s not something you’re capable of.”

“I’m not asking you to leave the Order and I’m certainly not leaving office. I’m just asking you to marry me.”

He narrowed his eyes and stared at her quizzically, “So we what, keep it a secret? Like what you said would destroy us?”

“It won’t destroy us,” Padmé said with so much confidence she nearly believed it herself, “You’re my color, Anakin. You make my life better and the galaxy brighter. We’re soulmates, but that doesn’t matter. I would love you even if we weren’t. You’re impossible not to love. I almost lost you today, Anakin. And with the war starting and the Jedi leading it, with both of us having to protect the Republic, that very may well happen again. I don’t want regrets, Ani. I don’t want to be without the man I love because I’m scared. If I lose you, goddess forbid, I want to have had you, in any capacity that I can, even in secret. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Padmé’s heart was pounding in her chest so loud she was sure that every man on the ship, Jedi, clone, or other, could hear it. Seconds ticked by as Anakin sat in silence. He was still holding her hand, which Padmé assumed was a good sign, but he hadn’t said anything. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily and it took Padmé a moment to realize he was meditating, right then and there. Waiting for his response felt like torture. She would respect any decision he made, but there were no words to describe how her heart would ache if he said no. Her breath hitched when he opened his eyes. The blue in them, that beautiful blue that she had loved since she first saw, seemed to sparkle and a smile slowly spread across Anakin’s lips. “I love you,” He said, “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too.”

A laugh bubbled from Padmé as elation rushed through her veins. He had said _yes_. She surged forward, capturing his lips with her own. She savored the feeling of the kiss, the warmth the spread through her very soul, the colors the swirled on forever. The kiss felt like a perfect, endless, eternity. When she pulled away, both her and Anakin wore matching smiles. “When this is all over,” Anakin said, serious again for one more moment, “The war, the Separatist threat, we’ll be together. I’ll leave the order and the secrets will end. As soon as the war is over” Padmé nodded, before kissing Anakin once more. He smiled against her lips and there was a twinkle in his eye that Padmé couldn’t see but still knew to be there, “So,” He asked, humor and curiosity in his voice, “Soulmates?”

* * *

For a very short time, Padmé Amidala found, she loved nothing more than telling her fiancé stories, not only ones about soulmates, but about anything and everything. She just loved talking to her fiancé. The only reason this was her favorite thing for just a week was because by the end of the week he was no longer her fiancé but her husband. She found then, that she loved talking to her husband even more. With his life spent between Tatooine and the Jedi temple, Anakin had never heard stories about soulmates, so Padmé reveled in telling him. Unlike the stories from her childhood, Padmé told Anakin the truth about soulmates. That most beings could live a thousand years and never meet their soulmate. That beings could meet their soulmate and chose not be with them, that they could be in love with someone else. That is beautiful as seeing color was, it didn’t predict anything. But as she told Anakin about soulmates she punctuated the stories with kisses and caresses because while color and destiny meant nothing to most, it had led the two of them together. 

Their engagement was short, barely two weeks. The first week Anakin spent in recovery in the Jedi temple, going through rehabilitation and familiarizing himself with his mechanical limb. Padmé spent the time in her apartments, a different Jedi padawan standing guard in her rooms. She didn’t bother to learn his name, too focused on Anakin, only a few miles across the city from her but seemingly worlds away. The Jedi Council had decided that, even with the brewing war, ensuring that the threat against Padmé had truly been neutralized was necessary. Once Anakin was healed he would be tasked with bringing her to Naboo, one last week together before he would be sent off to war. Chancellor Palpatine urged Padmé to stay on Naboo for at least a month, but she planned on returning to Coruscant as soon as she finished the reason she agreed to the final protection issues. The reason, of course, being to marry Anakin.

It wasn’t a traditional Nubian wedding. There were no guests, no family, her gown wasn’t the traditional blue, and he was in his Jedi robes instead of classic silk tunics. It was just them, their droids, and the holy man. Anakin told her it was kind of like marriages on Tatooine, private because of the secret of it. Despite the marriage matching neither of their customs, it was perfect.

They stood on the balcony where they shared their first kiss, hand clasped together. Behind them the sun was setting, shedding a golden hue over the usually blue and green landscape. With their hands touching the beautiful colors of the yellows, reds, and oranges, grew brighter. It mirrored the fire that burned within them both, the raging passion they felt for each other. When the holy man pronounced them man and wife, Padmé’s heart felt like it would burst. Never in her life had she been happier. They leaned forward, their foreheads touching for a second before they tilted their heads, their mouths meeting. Their marriage was sealed with a passionate kiss. For a moment, everything was color, bright, vivid, alive, and then everything was Anakin. It felt like the stars had aligned, everything had fallen into place, the universe had said they belonged together, and, finally, they had listened. Everything the galaxy had to offer stood before them, the chaos of a war and the promise of a marriage, but all that mattered was each other.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts! And remember to check out my tumblr for updates on my other fics and new works!


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